


Don't Make A Sound

by Slipperyguts



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood, Bloodplay, M/M, Mild Emetophilia, Mildly Dubious Consent, Needles, needleplay, this is a mess and i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 09:10:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5579716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slipperyguts/pseuds/Slipperyguts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys drunkenly let out some secret kinks one time.<br/>So of course, Jack is going to exploit them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Make A Sound

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, this is so far the grossest thing I've posted here.  
> Listen to me right now, this is NOT the correct way to do needleplay in any way, shape, or form. I'm highly aware of that, since it's something I'm pretty well-versed in. But this is fiction, I'm going to do what I want.  
> Now that that's out of the way, please enjoy this disgusting mess xoxox.   
> -Guts

“Remember what I said about how you’d regret giving me a body eventually? Yeah, this is about where you start regretting it.” Jack says, leisurely pacing back and forth in front of Rhys’s panic-filled eyes. “Well?” After there’s no response from Rhys, Jack turns and breaks out in a laugh. “Oh yeah! I gagged yah! Because you wouldn’t stop yelling like a little bitch.” He sighs wistfully as if it was long-ago memory and not about ten or fifteen minutes ago. “If I let you talk, you gonna be a good boy? Not yell? No point if you do, I mean… Not anything new from _this_ office.” Reluctantly, Rhys is nodding. “Good!” 

After a few strides, Jack is in front of Rhys again, looking at Rhys like he’s inspecting him, like a piece of good meat. The man suddenly feels much more menacing than he did before, sharing his brain with him. Finally, Jack grabs the hideous sock from Rhys’s mouth and tosses it behind him, not caring where it ends up. “What the hell, Jack?!” Rhys shouts almost immediately, only to get a hand over his mouth.

“Hey, hey! What’d I say about not yelling?” The tone Jack uses sounds like he’s scolding a dog for barking, Rhys notices. How cliche. “Now, I’m going to move my hand, and if you yell, I’m cutting your fucking tongue out.” Motioning at the menacing scissors on the desk, Jack smiles in a threatening manner. All Rhys can do is swallow, realizing his throat is painfully dry, and nod. 

Moving his hand, Jack wipes his moist palm on his thigh, then folds his arms to look down at Rhys. After minutes of the back and forth staring, Rhys starts to feel… Good? The only word that unhelpfully pops into his mind is ‘euphoria’, and then it hits him. 

Dopamine chair.

Jack has him tied up to his big ol’ chair just for this reason specifically, to calm him down with drugs. Unfortunately, Rhys thinks to himself, it’s definitely working. He’s not as panicked or mad, he realizes, but he does still want to know what the hell is going on. “Jack, cut the crap, cut the theatrics, just tell me what the hell you think you’re doing.” He should have foreseen this, should have foreseen Jack betraying him like this after giving him a body. Stupid, so so stupid. Jack was probably going to-

“How could you have been so stupid, Pumpkin!” Jack says in disbelief, cutting off all of Rhys’s thoughts. “All this?” He’s motioning to the entire room, the situation, Rhys figures. “You walked right into it. I figured you’d be easy to manipulate but… Jesus, this is a _little_ sad.” Suddenly Jack is laughing again, stepping in front of the chair and leaning down to look Rhys in the eye. 

“Was this your plan from the beginning, then? Make me trust you, get me through everything and to the top, get all buddy-buddy, have me get you into a new body, then kill me?” Rhys says with an attitude, something not very smart for a guy tied to a chair with a violent killer less than a foot away from this neck. 

“Kill you? Kid, you’re tied to a chair. What about that says I’m gonna kill ya?” Honestly? Everything about it screams ‘murder!’ to Rhys. 

“...Everything?” Rhys decides to finally say, face twisted up in confusion. “Normally, you- I mean in general, the human population, not you specifically- tie people up if you’re going to kill them or hold them for ransom.” Rhys is babbling from nerves and he knows it, it feels kind of like he’s stalling for time. 

“Naaaah! No way, Rhysie! I could never kill my _special boy_. “ Jack announces happily, a wide and vaguely sarcastic smile breaking over his face. The way he ends that sentence makes Rhys feel things, makes him feel kind of good, which is a complete contrast with his comfort with the situation at hand. From the corner of his eye, he spies a bunch of hypodermic needles. 

No. No way.

One night while doing some rare drinking, Rhys had accidentally let slip out a few secret- Well, not so secret _anymore_ \- fetishes he had. Jack was clearly not at all against exploiting those fetishes to torture Rhys. But… Is it really going to be torture? 

Rhys stops thinking again once he hears Jack slowly peeling the paper off of the back of a packaged needle. By the looks of it, it has to be around an eighteen gauge, it’s pretty small. It won’t hurt too bad and the mark won’t be as big, at least. Rhys feels a little more calm now, knowing he isn’t going to be brutally murdered. Though, Jack could always be lying. 

Oh well, there wasn’t much he could do tied up anyways. Reluctantly, he relaxes and lets his guard down, looking up at Jack with a softer expression. “Alright, okay, so your plan is… What exactly? Stick me full of needles?” 

“Alright, you’re talking too much already. We’re gonna fix that!” He tosses the smaller needle somewhere behind him, Rhys hopes to some higher power that someone other than Jack doesn’t step on it, and grabs another sealed needle, pulling the thin paper from the back in what can only be described as a ‘menacing manner’. This one is thicker… According to his Echo-eye, it’s a 14 gauge if he wants to be exact. It’s substantially thicker than the previous, making Rhys feel nervous again.

Suddenly, Jack grabs his jaw, squeezing a little too tight. “Open up.” He orders, and Rhys obeys immediately. The dopamine (and Jack’s own special charmingness) make him much more compliant, he’s feeling absolutely wonderful, so his mouth falls open easily, his tongue almost lulling out. As soon as Jack sees his tongue, he grabs a pair of forceps and clamps them down on Rhys’ tongue, yanking it out further. “Let’s see you talk like this…” Jack mutters, eyes fixed on Rhys’ tongue, which is collecting and dribbling saliva all over the forceps. It drips down his chin and onto his bare torso, getting thicker by the second. 

Rhys knows what he’s going to do and panic rises as best as it can through the excessive drug in his system. His heart's already pounding at an erratic rate, but now it’s just starting to hurt his chest and make his echo-eye warn him of his vitals, over and over. Rhys wants to cry, but before he can object or even make a feeble attempt at escape, Jack cuts him off. 

“You _might_ feel a slight pinch.” Jack says seriously- Rhys knows he says it to be a smartass- pressing the needle into the front and center of Rhys’ tongue.

It doesn’t hurt as much as Rhys expects it to, but the noise is sickening. All he can hear is the wet tearing of muscle, then the pop of the needle puncturing and exiting the bottom of his tongue. A loud noise, somewhere between a whine and a sob, bubbles up from his throat. He expects Jack to remove the needle and relent, but when Jack removes the forceps and leaves the needle in, Rhys panics. 

Jack was going to leave the needle in for now and Rhys couldn’t do anything about it. 

The bleeding is minimal for now, because the surgical steel impaling his tongue is holding it back like floodgates. Rhys know that if Jack removes the needle, the blood will flow at an alarming rate unless there’s something else to block it off. The thought makes his heart race more if that’s even possible, which probably isn’t, but it also makes his cock harden a bit. He hates himself now more than he ever has before.

“There we go! That’s much better.” Turning around, Jack grabs more needles, bringing them closer to make this whole ‘torture’ easier. He opens up another small one, then strokes his thumb along Rhys’ sharp collarbone, enjoying how soft and warm his skin was. It’s exceptionally quiet in the office, aside from Rhys’ ragged breathes and soft whimpers, it feels slightly atmospheric to Jack.

Using the forceps again, Jack pinches some skin between them near Rhys’ clavicle, then locks them for a moment to restrict the blood flow to the pinched area. Rhys winces at the pain, but ultimately tries to steady his breathing again. When he peers down, he notices the skin is reddening quickly from the blood pooling in the clamped area. As he’s distracted, he doesn’t notice Jack grab the needle again. Next thing he knows, he sees the needle a few centimeters away from the designated spot, and feels panic and arousal hit him again. 

The tip of the needle is so sharp that it punctures almost effortlessly, but requires a slight push on Jack’s end to get it through completely with another soft tear. Rhys makes another groan in pain, his brows furrowing as his eyes shut tight. With his tongue hanging out of his mouth like a dog, the blood drips and spills onto his chest in pretty streaks, drying quickly only to be covered in a fresh coating of it again. His mouth is flooding quickly with a mixture of the blood and his saliva, making him choke at the inability to swallow. It was a mess and he felt disgusting. 

He was loving it.

When Rhys blinks finally, a few tears drop from his lashes, his eyes tinged pink. “Oh, wow. That’s certainly a good look for you, Pumpkin.” Jack says under his breath, voice slightly hoarse and tone filled with genuine surprise. He unclasps the forceps and pulls them apart and away, discarding them on the desk again. Taking a step back, he admires his handiwork.

Rhys feels like he’s being inspected every time Jack does this, but he finds himself enjoying it weirdly enough. With the lack of care Jack is putting into this, he might as well be meat. There’s no point in thinking that’d be the end of it though, because Rhys isn’t stupid. He knows Jack will drag this out as much as he can for his own sadistic glee. Maybe this was Jack getting all his frustrations- from their time sharing his head together- out. Either way, one part of Rhys wanted this to keep going, another part is telling himself he’s sick. Oh well. 

Reaching back, Jack grabs another needle and the forceps, setting to work on giving Rhys another puncture on the other side of his body, in the same place as the previous. Suddenly, as the needles starts going through, Rhys starts to choke. The fluids in his mouth are too much and he can’t breathe. So, he flattens his tongue and sticks it out as far as he can, dropping his jaw further. The sticky mess spills and pours down his jaw and neck, warm and wet. It’s perhaps the grossest thing he’s ever had to endure. 

Jack is laughing, absolutely losing it at how pathetic Rhys’ rasping breath is. When Rhys looks down at the punctures, the needles still resting against his flesh, the tips threatening to catch and tear his skin. ‘Wound Hematoma’ his brain unhelpfully chimes at him when he looks at the purple-ish red swell around the actual wounds. He groans internally at the words, his brain always feeds him information at the worst possible moments.

As time passes, Rhys has a wall of needles along his collarbones and the streaking blood is much more dry in intricate streaks. Rhys has more tears streaming down his face, all the fluids coating his body cooling and making him shudder against his restraints. The worst part about it is that he’s harder than he’s been in a long time, making him strongly regret ever drinking with Jack and divulging his secret kinks. 

“Woah! You uh… Havin’ some trouble there? Looks painful.” Jack motions to the bulge in Rhys’ pants, making Rhys’s face burn with embarrassment. “Let’s just fix that…” Jack mutters, kneeling down to undo Rhys’s belt and unbutton his pants. With quick work, he tugs Rhys’ cock out, giving it a few strokes until it leaks precum at the tip. “Cute.” Is all he says, standing up once more. 

Before Rhys’ eyes, Jack is stripping down, dropping his clothes wherever, until he’s standing in front of Rhys in just a sweater, cock hard and dripping, peeking out from under the bright, ugly sweater. The whole time, Rhys can’t rip his eyes away from the sight before him. That is, until Jack sits on his lap facing him. 

“Don’t make stupid faces like that if I’m gonna ride your dick.” Jack chastises, then reaches back towards his desk to grab lube from a drawer. He pours a good amount over his hand and wraps around Rhys’ cock, coating him liberally. “There we go…” At that, Jack sits up a moment, and lines up Rhys with his hole. 

Was he seriously going to just take him without- Oh. Rhys stops when he feels Jack sink down with little resistance. He makes a confused noise, but it turns into a long, pleased, groan. Jack, who’s grinding his hips slowly, laughs through his moan, steadying himself on Rhys’ shoulders. 

“You confused, Cupcake? A good boy scout always comes prepared.” Winking, Jack gives Rhys a lopsided grin. Rhys wishes his hands were free so he could slap him for that.

But what Rhys finds curious is the obvious fact that Jack had prepared himself for this. The man, _Handsome Jack_ , had taken the time to finger himself open just for the sole purpose of riding him. Part of Rhys wonders if he’s dreaming, it seems so unbelievable to have his Co-CEO of Hyperion, the reigning king, on his cock. Those thoughts leave Rhys aching, moaning pathetically as Jack rides him and the needles scratch his flesh from the motions. He hates himself so much for getting off on all of this, but he’ll deal with it later. Maybe.

Probably not.

Suddenly, Jack stops moving and reaches up to grab Rhys’ tongue, yanking the needle out and tossing it away. As soon as the needle is out all the way, the bleeding starts again, and as Rhys tries to retract his tongue to soothe the wound, Jack grabs him by the back of the head, pulling him into a rough kiss. Jack’s tongue is messing with the hole in Rhys’s tongue, making Rhys whimper and writhe in pain, but unable to get away. It hurts of course, but it also feels amazing, bringing him closer and closer to the edge. 

But then he notices he can’t breathe through all the blood and saliva, along with Jack’s tongue in his mouth. He’s swallowed so much of it he feels sick to his stomach, and starts gagging. Jack pulls away just in time for Rhys to throw his head to the side and throw all the blood and saliva right back up. Once it’s all out, Rhys is sweating, panting, and his eyes are burning with tears again. He figures he’s never looked as bad as this moment. 

The look Jack gives him is worrying, pure astoundment with an underlying hint of arousal. He looks like a man who’s struck oil, overjoyed. Rhys knew Jack was into some weird stuff but this was… Strange. “Oh, Cupcake, you look absolutely terrible. And you’re still hard! Haha… God, that’s disgusting!” Jack keeps going on and on, any combination of words to humiliate Rhys that he thought of is immediately spit out, getting progressively louder as Jack bounces on Rhys’ cock. 

Rhys, on the other hand, is full blown sobbing now. Tears burn and run down his cheeks, face red from the humiliation and the smeared bloody saliva. Every kiss is painful on his sensitive and swollen tongue, making him shake and whine. Part of him is amazed he’s still conscious, the other is amazed he’s still this hard and getting off on all of this. He highly doubts he’ll be able to talk after this, not with the swelling. How’s he going to explain it to Vaughn? Great.

Above Rhys, Jack is biting his lip and grinning stupidly while he fucks himself on Rhys, one hand stroking his own cock all the while. Rhys can’t lie to himself, Jack looks amazing like this. Between the discomfort of needles and drying blood, and the pleasure of Jack around his cock, Rhys is quickly losing any (quite meager) self-restraint he had before, moaning through his sobs. 

Feeling the steady build-up of his impending orgasm, Jack jerks himself faster, rolling his hips at just the right angle so Rhys’ cock is pressing against his prostate deliciously. After a few more well-angled movements, Jack is cumming in his hand with a sigh. “Haaah… Oh man, that was good! Just what I needed…” Bringing his hand up to Rhys’ face, Jack presses the cum against his lips. “Lick it up.” 

Now, Rhys is no doctor, but he’s pretty sure it’s _most definitely_ not healthy to have anyone’s spunk in a fresh tongue piercing. While Jack is waiting, he watches Rhys intently, eyebrows furrowed. It’s not like he has much of a choice, so he reluctantly opens his mouth and licks up the cum up from Jack’s hand sloppily. With his tongue so swollen, it’s hard to do, but he succeeds anyways, just for Jack. Jack, who looks absolutely pleased with himself. 

“Holy shit! You actually did it! You are- You just take the cake, don't yah Princess?” Jack mocks, somehow still able to laugh at Rhys’ expense even with a dick still up his ass. “God… Wow… You sure are a trip, aren’t ya kiddo?” Sitting up slowly, he pulls off of Rhys’ cock and gets up off of his lap as well, quickly pulling his clothes back on. “Well, I’ve got a meeting to get to.” He steps around Rhys to untie different knots, then lets to ropes fall off of the chair and Rhys, down onto the floor.

Rhys is an absolute wreck though. Shirtless, bloody, in pain, and still hard as hell without getting off, Rhys hates himself for it. When he tries to stand up, he’s shaky from blood loss so he falls back against the chair. Suddenly, Jack slams an orange juice box in front of him as if right on cue. “You’re going to need that.” he says simply. Rhys shakily takes the juice box and sticks the straw in it hard, gulping it down fast. 

After some silence between the two, Jack claps his hands together loudly, signifying the moment is over. “Alright! First aid kit is in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom over there, don’t touch my stuff or I’ll kill you, y’know, the works.” Jack says loudly, leaving the room. Quickly peeking back in, he adds “Oh, and Rhys? I’d use saline solution for that tongue of yours.” Just before he disappears again.

Rhys hates his job.

**Author's Note:**

> If you read this whole thing, thank you. You give me a reason for my lack of sleep.


End file.
